


Dreamcatcher

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: NCIS
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-22
Updated: 2011-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She is so small and soft and fragile, everything she has never been before, everything he has never wanted her to be."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamcatcher

_Disclaimers:_ NCIS, the rights to the show and its characters do not belong to me. No money was made by this.  
 _Spoilers:_ set shortly after "Truth or Consequences", AU from there  
 _Pairing:_ Tiva

* * *

She is back. She is back but she is not, not really. She is silent, keeps to herself, does not say anything if she is not spoken to. Her voice is a lot softer than he remembers, like she is insecure if she is allowed to speak up.

The first time he interrupts her when she is ranting about something, he sees her eyes widen and her fists curl at her sides. She even takes a step back. At first, he thinks she wants to hit him, and get into fighting stance. But then he realizes that the expression on her face is not that of anger, but of fear. She is afraid she has ticked him of, afraid of what he will do. Afraid that he'll punish her, like she has been punished in that hell-hole.

She does not laugh at jokes. No matter if they come from him or McGee. At least the Probie gets a smile from her for his efforts, but those smiles, rare as they are, never reach her dark eyes. Eyes that hold a haunted look in them. He speaks to Abby, and she tells him that she is avoiding her. Well, not her, but her lab in particular. He wonders and turns around slowly, taking in the surroundings, and not finding the reason. Until he notices that they are actually in the cellar, and that the two small windows remind even him of his prison, if he really looks. And he has just been there for a few days; she has spent months in that filthy cell. No surprise that she has a hard time blocking out those memories when she is down in Labby. On his way out, he tells Abby to get rid of the Caf-Pow when Ziva comes down, perhaps that will make it easier.

She is not eating properly. He has asked Ducky about it, and the old ME told him that she needs to take some time until she will be able to handle whole meals. Her body has been starved, and it needs to adjust. But that is not the reason, he feels it in the way she ignores her food for as long as possible when McGee brings them take out. He has listened to her declining water when they chased someone, or after she has been working out in the gym. She uses doctor's advice in her favor, to punish herself. Punish herself for something she thinks is her fault. If it is Rivkin's death, or that of Daniel Cryer, or that he and McGee have been captured in order to rescue her, he is not sure. And he will not ask to find out.

NCIS

On the drive to the village, she has not even tried to argue who should drive. She has let him take the keys and not said a word. Which is a pretty regular occurrence now, she will give in without a fight, just fold under the slightest pressure. Even when McGee asks her to do something, she always does. Which is why the younger agent has stopped asking. He feels bad about making her do something when she does not even show him if she does not want to do it. He still sees her as the strong assassin, and it pains him to see she is not that person anymore, so he has gone to consciously avoiding actions that will remind him, that will remind _them_ of that fact.

NCIS

He has always hated small towns. And nothing is going to change that. Plus, he was way too tired to drive back tonight, and she had fallen asleep in the car on their way to the last person they needed to interview. There is no way he would let her drive them anywhere. So he decides they are going to stay the night, and gets them a room in the motel. Upon hearing that they only have one room left, her eyes widen, and she scrambles to say she is not tired at all, but he takes the room anyway, telling her he'll take the couch. The couch turns out to be non-existent, and he will spend the night in the armchair. Immediately, she offers to take the chair, and he wants to put his first through the wall. It is not that she does not want to cause him discomfort; she wants to take it herself willingly. He has the slight suspicion that if he says he will sleep in the car and would then walk into the room in the middle of the night, he would find her curled up in the armchair, even though she could have the bed.

He tells her to go freshen up and then takes her to a restaurant. She orders a salad, and he puts the menu down forcefully. He asks her if she is cleared to eat full meals, and she tells him that she is, she is just not hungry. He tells the waitress they will both have a steak and wedges, and a salad on the side. She does not even glare at him, just sits there open mouthed. Once their dinner has arrived, she looks at it, uncertain. He has cut his into little pieces and exchanges their plates, causing her to blush furiously. He has noticed how she has trouble delivering blows with her left hand when they are sparing, and he figured that it is a constant ache bothering her when he has found her rubbing and massaging it repeatedly. He eats his meal, and waits patiently for her. When he has finished, she also puts her silverware down, but he makes her eat at least half of it, no matter how long it will take. She eats a bit more than his given minimum, and tells him she is stuffed when she puts her napkin down again. He accepts it, because she has slowed down even more during the last few bites and seemingly enjoyed the food. He orders two pieces of chocolate cake to take with them and pays. Outside the restaurant, he takes her hand, gently brushing her skin first before carefully wrapping it in his hand, always making sure that he is not too close, that she knows she is not in danger and can back away. Her hand twitches in his grasp, and he lets go, hearing her frustrated sigh. Frustrated with herself, that she cannot bear the simple contact, that even though she knows that he will not hurt her physically, and never on purpose, she still can not trust him, and her fear wins out. He tells her it is okay, to take as long as she needs, and that he will still be there when she is ready. Only earns himself a doubtful look.

NCIS

The night he spends in the armchair, still clad in his jeans and a fresh shirt, because he does not want to run around in boxers with her in the room. She wears a long, thin shirt, and short pants that reach down to her knees, exposing some of her tanned legs. And a few soft scars there. He has only just fallen asleep when he wakes up again. She is tossing and turning on the bed, murmuring words he does not understand, moaning in her dreams. He gets up and walks over to her, sits down on the bed and watches her face, sees it contort in fear and pain, watches as she brings her arms up to protect herself. He switches on the light on the bedside table and calls her name, refraining from touching her. Even though she will not harm him on purpose when awake, she is having a nightmare, and could easily mistake him for one of her attackers with her sleep-clouded brain. She jolts awake and almost falls out of the bed. He lets her catch herself and does not move as she eyes him, blinking repeatedly, the sleep slowly disappearing from her eyes, recognition dawning. She lets out a shuddering breath and closes her eyes, pressing them shut tightly. He tells her to open them, to look at him, concentrate on his face, her current surroundings. It will make the images disappear faster. She shakes her head, her body trembling, but opens her eyes slowly, a stray tear running down her cheek. He swallows against the lump in his throat at seeing her like this. The night in the hospital in Somalia, he has not been allowed anywhere near her, and neither had the Probie. Their boss stayed with her, in the same room, but has never spoken about what happened. And he has the feeling he now knows why the doctors have given them leather restraints for the plane ride. Because if after months back with them, her nightmares were still that bad, he can just imagine what her first night away from that hell hole has been like.

As he watches her pull her knees up to her chest, he remembers that their boss has tossed the restraints at a stewardess. She spent the entire flight curled into a tight ball on his lap, her face buried in his neck. And he held her against him, not simply held her, but tried to shield her with his arms, cradled her against him like he must have cradled his own daughter all those years ago. And it has been a quiet flight, he has heard her whimper a few times, but never scream or yell or cry, nor has she lashed out at anybody. He swallows again, and takes a deep breath. Slowly, he sits up against the headboard and raises his arms, a silent invitation. She hesitates before crawling over to him, tugging herself into the narrow space of his side without an effort. He hears her inhale deeply and feels her bury her face in his neck, just like she has done with their father figure. After a while, the trembling of her body subsides, and her breathing evens out. He has pulled her against him, like their boss had done, keeps her safe in his arms, toying with the ends of her long curls to keep his hands occupied and prevent them from wandering, from assessing her injuries and the state her body is in. Still he can feel her ribs stand out against her skin. She is so small and soft and fragile, everything she has never been before, everything he has never wanted her to be.

NCIS

They never talk about that night. When they are back in D.C., he notices the look their boss gives her, and the small shake of her head. He does not know what it is about, and he does not want to know, either. Because apparently, there is something even worse than her waking up shaking and screaming from her nightmares.

Even though they never talk about it, she accepts his dinner invitations with small nods, and later grateful smiles. He watches her eat for months, until she is able to keep up with his speed again, and it takes even longer for them to fill the silence with small talk that does not leave the lingering sting of regrets. She gains weight, the belts in her pants disappear after a while, and he is grateful that physically, in clothes, she is back to her old self.

Something they also never talk about is her showing up on his doorstep the first night they are back, clad in her Pjs, trembling, her face wet with tears, her eyes having the same haunted look that they have held in Somalia. He has pulled her against him without a second thought and carries her to his bedroom, rocking her gently until she falls asleep, a tight human ball in his lap.

NCIS

Four months later, she no longer goes to her own apartment after work, she simply drives to his place and lets herself in with the key he has wordlessly given her. She fixes them dinner when she is in the mood, when she needs to keep her hands and mind occupied after a case hit too close to home for her, when the memories come back without a warning. He has found out that she is also good a baking, her pies and cookies are delicious. And he does not care if he wakes in the middle of the night because she has turned on the mixer when the result tastes like heaven.

She is no longer a tightly wound ball. In the last months, she has moved out of his arms gradually, and uncurled. Now they spend their nights lying next to each other, her back pressed against his front, her head on his arm, his other resting carefully on her hip, their fingers entwined. How she manages to steal herself out of that position every now and then is a mystery to him, but he is not going to ask her. If she wants to talk, she will, time has taught him that. Like she has after he walked in on her stepping out of the shower, after she had dressed, she came to him and revealed a bit of what has happened to her, where some of the larger scars littering her body have come from. He is glad that she opens up to him now, that she trusts him again. And at the same time he wonders if that is a good thing, because he has no idea why he suddenly needs her there at night, needs to know where she is and that she is alright. And he has no idea when the old feelings came back, but he knows he loves her, still loves her, now more than ever before. And he does not know what he would do if for some reason she suddenly walked out of his life again.

NCIS

One night, after they have been to a bar and some blond bimbo has tried to chat him up, she declares this over and packs her bag, arguing that he needs to move on with his life; that she cannot continue to hold him back. She will find a way to deal with her demons, and he must no worry about that, but concentrate on finding someone he wants to spend his life with. And having a permanent resident in his bed will not help that. He is angry and throws a glass against the wall, reducing her to a sobbing bundle in the corner of his living room before he realizes what is happening. He sits in front of her for hours, trying to calm her down, apologizing, telling her he will never do anything like this again, but never touching her in the process. He is so sorry, he wants to stab himself in the eye with the dull end of a spoon, repeatedly, for bringing back all her fears and all the memories that she was slowly working through. That night, she is a tight ball in his arms again, and still she is haunted by nightmares, screaming and kicking and crying out for help, for her mother, like he has never heard before. And he does the unthinkable, he kisses her forehead, holds her close against him and whispers how much he loves her, that he will never let anyone touch her, that he is so sorry, so unbelievably sorry for what he has done, for Rivkin, for Somalia, for his living room, for every single scar on her body and the ones littering her heart and soul. He lets her cry and rocks her like a child, like the fragile being she is. And she clutches his shirt in her hands and cries and sobs in pain and anger and fear.

NCIS

Their attempt to go to work is quelled by their boss, who sends them home immediately upon seeing the state she is in, and delivering a solid head slap to his head. He thinks they are supposed to talk, but instead, she goes straight to the bedroom, stripping down to her underwear and climbing under the covers, her tired eyes fluttering closed. He watches and then decides to go watch a movie and let her sleep when she reaches for him, his name soft on her lips, one eye opening and pleading with him to hold her. He is at her side in a flash, and snuggles close, inhaling her scent and giving a soft sigh. He massages her scalp and whispers nonsense into her ear as she falls asleep next to him, him following her after a few minutes of watching her still beautiful features relax. When he wakes up, she is lying on top of him, her breath warm on his neck, his one hand resting on her behind, the other next to them, their fingers entwined. And for the first time since their sleeping arrangement has begun, he feels a spark of desire at holding her this close. She stirs and wakes up, nuzzling his neck before leaning up and looking into his eyes, a shy smile on her lips, her own dark pools filled with too much love than he will ever deserve. He smiles up at her and brushes a curl of her dark hair behind her ear, the most affectionate gesture he knows she will be able to tolerate. It is the first time they wake up facing each other.

NCIS

Again, they do not talk about it. Not much, that is. They notice the subtle shifts and changes. How she will walk closer to him, her hand brushing his on occasion. It takes long for her to initiate a hug when they are not in the safety of his bedroom. Even longer for her to kiss him, really kiss him, not just a quick brush of her lips against his. The words are there, she says them, and he does, too, something he never saw happening after the disaster that had come over them the last time he said those particular three words. He adds something, a "forever and ever", a "for all eternity", a "to the moon and back" to match her "always and always", and feels his heart dance every time the words are uttered. He loves her, more than he can ever put into words, and he is certain that she feels the same. But the physical contact is something both of them shy away from, her because of the circumstances her last time happened under, and him because he is afraid to hurt her and invoke another return of the nightmares. He does not want to ever hurt her again, he has done so one too many times. If that means no sex for the rest of his life, he is willing to face that reality. She is more important than sex, and for the first time ever, he does not love a woman because of great sex and a nice personality, but for her personality, for the woman she is without physical aspects having any effect on his feelings for her.

NCIS

The wedding is very toned down. Not that they elope as he has suggested a few times, always with a teasing tone. He could never take away that moment from her, and does everything to make the day as perfect as it could be for the two of them, fulfilling her every wish. The white of her modern style wedding gown looks perfect on her, a beautiful contrast to her natural tan. The color had been the topic of many discussions, her always saying that white implied purity and innocence, nothing of which she possesses. He had always taken her in his arms, kissing her forehead and eyes and her nose and full lips and asking her to close her eyes. Asked her to imagine her wedding day and describe it to him. She had done so, and he had interrupted her after a few moments, asking what the color of her dress was. And all those times, her answer had been a whispered "white", and he told her she had her answer. He sees the tears in her eyes when she gets the invitation back from her father, the envelope still sealed, a simple "return to sender" stamped across it. He takes her in his arms and lets her cry, and if it had not been for her needing his comfort right then, he would have taken the next plane to Israel and shot the bastard dead. He talks to their boss and uses a lot of satellite hours and money, but in the end, he manages to have one member of her family there, a woman that cares so deeply about his sunshine that she cries tears of joy at seeing her alive and in the arms of the person she loves, even if he happens to be a reformed Catholic Italian playboy. He would have never pegged Aunt Nettie for such a charming and lovely old lady, and does not mind her taking permanent residence in the guest bedroom of their new house for a single second.

The wedding night she wants to give him what she had previously denied, but this time it is his turn to deny her. Confusion is beautiful when it is etched on her gorgeous face, and he kisses her nose and simply shakes his head, holding her close. He undresses her carefully, taking hours to kiss the newly exposed skin, and waiting until she relaxes again. And she understands his intentions and admits, albeit reluctantly, that he is right, it would have been too much, too soon. Too soon, the irony of the words, too soon after seven years of working together, after three years of being rescued from those monsters, after three years of sharing one bed, after one year, two months, one week and two days of being in a relationship with each other, an exclusive relationship. There is a too soon, something he never thought possible, and being faced with it does not hurt the slightest, what hurts is the pain in her eyes and the fear that slowly ebbs away under his hands and lips.

NCIS

The first time they make love is four months after their wedding. He discovers that even though she may have been a screamer once, she is now a lot quieter, often biting her lip to keep from screaming out in a sensation he always fears is pain. They take their time and kiss away each other's tears, and afterwards, he holds her against him, tracing the scars on her body with gentle motions, his brush light as a feather as she toys with the hair on his chest and leans up to kiss him every now and then, her eyes bright with joy and happiness. He loves that particular look in them, and tries to make them shine like this every single day. And he finds he is either getting a lot better at causing that look, or she is loosening up and letting him in a lot more. She is in his arms, finally, and that is all that matters. She is his, his wife, and he is hers, and he would not have it any other way.

NCIS

Just like a lot of things, they never talk about children. They do not use protection, but when they celebrate their first anniversary, she drops the bomb on him that own children are something that will not happen to them. And he wants to kill those bastards again for what they have done to her. But they are already dead, so he simply takes her into his arms and tells her that it does not matter to him, that he thinks he has everything and more than he could ever dream of right in his arms at that very moment. She sniffles against his neck and ask him what will happen if he changes his mind one day, and he gives her a pinky promise that he will not. Six months later, she tells him that perhaps they should look into adoption. He stares at her, trying to recall a moment when he gave her the feeling that she is not enough for him any more, when she tells him that it is what she wants. Cruel as the world is, she wants what she cannot give him, and he takes her into his arms, staring at her aunt that has walked into the kitchen at that moment, helplessness on his face and hers.

NCIS

She is an American citizen, has been for a few years now, and that makes filling out the adoption papers a lot easier. Though there were so many questions that his head spins after only ten of them. If they want a boy or a girl? What age? Are they willing to take in a teenager? Or be the foster parents to a child that they will never be able to adopt? Did race and ethnicity matter? What about religion? At that question, he has laugh out loud. The social worker stares at him like he is nuts, and he excuses himself from the table, his wife looking after him and trying to apologize for his behavior, until he comes back and places a picture in front of the older man. The picture taken on their first Christmas as husband and wife. Nettie took it, it shows them lightning the third candle on the menorah, the lights of the Christmas tree sparkling in the background. No, religion does not matter to them.

NCIS

It is going to be a girl. A girl with bright blue eyes, freckles and long dark curls. And he has never seen his beloved wife more nervous than the day they got the picture and the other information. She traced the small face of the toddler, tears burning in her eyes as a small smile broke out on her features. And then the parents decide to withdraw their consent. And he sees his wife fall apart right there in the office, cradles her close and rocks her and cries silent tears at their loss of something they never had in the first place, and for the first time, he has the urge to kill someone who has emotionally hurt his wife without ever touching her.

NCIS

She cries herself to sleep for weeks. The recent death of her Aunt does not help matters, she has no one to talk about this with, their friends do not know what it feels like to have your child taken away from you like this, and their boss, well, she does not want to talk to him about it, because their girl had not been theirs and she is still alive, that had to count for something, right? Still, she cannot let go, and he does not bring up trying it again, and simply hangs up when their social worker calls to tell them about another child. The eating habits she had after coming back to them start to resurface, and he is beginning to wonder how he can snap her out of that headspace again. Then he comes home one evening, and she is in the room that they picked out and decorated for their daughter, sitting on the floor next to the bed, her knees drawn to her chest, crying with an intensity that he has not experienced since the day in the office when they had gotten the horrible news. He drops down next to her, pulls her against him and let her cry, stroking her curls, telling her that he will get rid of the furniture, apologizing that he has not already done so when he knew what seeing the empty room did to her. She stops crying and looks up at him, blinking away her tears. And then she had brushed his away with a soft smile and kissed him, straddling him and staring deeply into his eyes. Tells him that she is crying happy tears, tears of joy and not of pain and grief. And he stares at her, uncomprehending, until she spells it out for him. She is pregnant. They are having a baby, their baby, their little miracle is growing inside of her.

NCIS

He thinks he is going to die when the hospital calls him. He has to ask the Probie to drive him, because his hands are shaking so badly he could not insert the key after even five minutes of trying. He feels panic rising inside of him, and wants to scream and cry and beat something or someone into a pulp with his fists. Why does it have to happen to them? They want this so badly, too much perhaps, which is why they are in for such a disappointment. And all the time that it takes them to get from their crime scene to Bethesda he is worrying about his wife. After losing a child that has never been theirs to begin with, and seeing what that did to her, he cannot even begin to imagine the amount of pain she is going to be in after losing their child, and he has no idea what he is going to do about that. And then someone gently leads him to her room, and she is lying there, on her side, facing the door, a tired smile on her lips, her arm reaching for him, and he walks over and kisses her forehead and wants to tell her it is okay to cry when he notices the machine in the corner. It takes him a moment to process what it is, to realize that she is hooked up to a CTG, and to notice that the lines are regular without spikes. And he places his hand on her growing belly, and feels his child kick, and then he breaks down and cries and sobs into her shoulder, repeating over and over how much he loves them both and ordering her never to scare him like this ever again, or he will take away her Ben&Jerry's and she will have to find someone else to get it in the middle of the night when she is craving the one flavor they do not have anywhere in the house. And she just smiles at him and kisses him and promises that she is not going to. She has to stay in the hospital for two weeks, and is released only when she complies to bed rest. And he makes sure she really does rest, and does not wander about the house when he is not home. Not that he thinks she would do anything to endanger their child, not after she has gotten strong contractions from simply doing the laundry the day the hospital called him.

NCIS

He is there when their son is born. He holds her hand and kisses her forehead and lets her scream and yell at him in every language she knows and he cannot understand as their miracle comes true. He is scared shitless and it hurts him so much to see her in pain, and he wishes that he could take it away from her like he never did before. But then the first cry of their son fills the room and she collapses back on the bed, both of them laughing through their happy tears as the little guy is placed on her chest. They stare in awe at the wrinkled creature, and he is certain that nothing as wrinkled and bloody and loud has ever looked to beautiful.

When he sees the look she throws Probie after he made a stupid joke six hours after Alessandro Lior has entered the world, he is grateful that for once in his life, for nineteen hours he has not made a stupid comment. Because if the glare poor McStupid receives on the team's visit six hours after the birth is anything to go by, he would have lost his hand, and probably some other piece of anatomy he is rather fond of.

NCIS

It takes over a week for them to be discharged from the hospital. Their little sunshine was a bit too small for the doc's liking, and they wanted to make sure he was gaining weight before sending him off into their care. He has never seen his wife as patient and frustrated, and it breaks his heart to see her struggling with nursing their son, to see the disappointment and guilt on her face and in her eyes as little Alex cries and refuses to be settled yet again. Then, when she is ready to give up, to admit defeat, it suddenly works, and he will never forget the look of contentment on her face as she closes her eyes and a lone tear rolls down her cheek.

And now he stands in the door to the nursery, day of hell at work over, another perp caught, the world saved again. And he stands there, watches as his wife sits in the rocking chair, nursing their son while singing a soft Hebrew lullaby as they rock gently back and forth. The eyes of their miracle slowly begin to droop as she strokes his cheek, still humming the soft tune until he falls asleep again. Slowly and quietly, he walks over to them and takes him from her to place him in his bassinet, kissing the soft skin of his forehead and wishing him sweet dreams. For the millionth time that week, he cannot believe just how lucky he is. He has everything he ever wanted in his life and more right there with him, and he is sure that he never deserved any of it in the first place.

As they lie together in bed, his wife leans up and kisses him, thanking him for their son in a hushed voice before placing her head on his chest. And he strokes her hair and places a gentle kiss on it, thanking her for letting him in all these years ago.

_fin._


End file.
